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Will Nature Make A Man Of Me Yet?

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“Are you sure she’s not going to wake up?”

“Will, shut the fuck up.” 

It has been precisely two weeks since the party at Ellis Leslie’s, and precisely two weeks since Tom got frenched in the bed of Will’s truck. The night in question isn’t quite picturesque in Tom’s memory, but he still thinks of it highly.

Will Schofield liking him back was a delight he would never take for granted. Excuses upon excuses had been made to Joe about where the hell Tom and Will had snuck off to, and although he was suspicious, he ultimately accepted the lie that Tom had gotten sick and Will had driven him home early.

In reality, they had spent the half the night in the truck bed of Will’s Ford, kissing and breaking to talk. They talked a lot. At some point, Tom had fallen asleep with his head against Will’s chest, and in Will’s own words, “You looked too precious to wake up.”

Tom had woken up, though, sometime before dawn, and they drove back to the Blake’s in comfortable silence. Tom dozed in and out of sleep, but it was such a wonderful, hazy feeling. He knew when he was awake because every time he stirred, Will would squeeze his hand.

Will held his hand very often when they drove places, now. 

Tonight though, oh boy, tonight was a far different affair. There was no sweet, private silence, it was instead replaced by a tenser one.

He was sneaking Will into his room, in the dead of night, while his mother was home. Will was very anxious, to say the least.

“I just- Tom, I really would hate to see us both in trouble, that’s all,” Will whispers, flexing his hand. Tom’s gripping his wrist like he’s holding on for dear life.

“She’s not a light sleeper. Or at least, not too light. We just got to be quiet. Shut up.” Tom quietly shuts the door behind them, glancing to where Myrtle’s sleeping on the couch. He wasn’t too worried about her, she was used to Will being around during the day, so it should make no matter if he’s here at night.

Tom’s main concern was how dreadfully nervous Will was.

“Keep your hair on and we’ll be fine, alright? If I need an excuse I can come up with something. It’s no problem.”

“You’re a terrible liar though.”

“I told you to shut up, you prick.”

It’s not genuinely aggressive, Tom knows that Will understands that, but Will still feigns offense.

“You’re so mean to me, you know that?” Will says, pouting out a lip as they tiptoe to the stairs.

“I know, I’m just dying to get you to leave me alone.” Tom retorts, turning back to grin at him.

They both struggle not to burst into fits of laughter, and they spend the very slow climb of the stairs spitting insults back and forth. By time they reach Tom’s bedroom door, they’re both on the verge of tears, the occasional giggle nearly setting them off.

They finally make it behind Tom’s door, though, and he doesn’t hesitate to push Will up against it, and pulls his face down, eager to connect their lips.

Will makes a small, contented noise of surprise, and God, if his laughter used to be Tom’s favourite sound, it’s been replaced. It’s been replaced by that sound that always manages to make Will sound absolutely astonished and endlessly pleased. It’s proper beautiful, if Tom thinks so.

“Hello, Tom,” Will murmurs against his mouth, snaking a hand up to Tom’s jaw. The touch is so delicate, so… thankful, in some way, it’s exactly everything Tom’s come to expect from Will.

“Hi, Will.” Tom sighs, fist fulls of Will's shirt in his hands. 

“Eager tonight.” Will remarks, his other hand finding it’s way to the small of Tom’s back, under his shirt.

“Yes.” He stands on his tip toes to press up into Will, before stepping backwards, pulling Will along with him. Will makes that noise again, the little hum, and willingly follows along, nearly tripping on his own shoes.

“Bed?” Will asks softly, pulling his head up for air.

“Bed.”


There’s a lot of fumbling. Like, a ridiculous amount of fumbling. Tom doesn’t think there should be this much considering they’re only taking off clothes. Shoes first, at Tom’s insistence. It’s all good and well for Will, who simply slips off his loafers, but Tom manages to knot his converse even worse. Will offers to untie them, but Tom very flusteredly insists he doesn’t as he struggles to get them off.

Will ends up untying them.

Their fumbling produces a glorious reward though, and it’s the two of them, standing there in their boxers and shirts, each one of them on either side of the bed. They stare at each other.

Tom laughs first. Will follows soon after, and they collapse into the bed together, arms wrapped around one another. 

It’s hard to recall the last time, no, any time where Tom’s felt such a strong sense of adoration for someone like this. It’s so damn engulfing, completely, the sensation of knowing the person in front of you knows. Knows that you care for them.

He kisses Will again, but it’s different than earlier. There’s more intent from it, at least on Tom’s end, and he shoves his hand a hand up the older boy’s shirt. Will borderline yelps.

“Tickles,” Will explains sheepishly as Tom recoils. “But at least your hands are warm.” He laughs, pulling Tom closer with those lovely arms of his. Tom apologizes by covering them in kisses.

“Let me feel your hands then, you cunt.” Tom demands with a snort, grabbing Will’s hands. They are, in fact, colder than anticipated, and Tom’s hand jerks.

“Oh my God,” Tom half laughs, gripping Will’s hands. Will has evidently moved on from the conversation, laying gentle, neat kisses against his neck. It almost causes Tom to lose his train of thought. “Are you fucking dead?” 

Nooooo.” Will whispers against Tom’s neck. Tom pulls Will’s hands under his shirt, under his thin grey t-shirt, and they slide against the soft part just above his stomach below his chest. They’re cold, sure, but Tom doesn’t mind because they're Will’s.

“You- Will,” Tom starts, intending to say something, but he can’t quite remember what. Will’s preoccupied with assaulting Tom’s neck, evidently, because he doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he adjusts his positioning so he’s on top of the younger man, his fingers digging softly into the flesh under Tom’s shirt.

“Tom,” Will pulls back, and Tom can really get a good look at him now, even in the darkness of the room. All previous nervousness had morphed into something else, the anxiety of Will’s previous expression gone. Tom licks his lips.

“I- um,” Tom swallows roughly. “Do you want to take off your shirt?”

“I can do that, yes.” Will nods rapidly, and pulls his hands out from Tom’s shirt, almost immediately starting on the buttons of his prim white dress shirt. Tom props himself up on his elbows, more than a bit eager to watch, even with the loss of contact. It’s not very conspicuous, but he hooks his leg’s around the older man’s waist. Will quirks a brow at him.

“What are you trying to do, silly boy?” He asks Tom, his nimble fingers undoing buttons at a quick pace. Tom gulps again, and half shrugs.

“Just, ah, taking in the view is all.”

Will snorts at that, before rolling his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it carelessly across the room. Tom’s hands grasp for him silently, and they find themselves pressed up against one another, jumbled hands roaming clumsily across bare skin.

Very insistently though, after a silent moment, Will begins tugging Tom’s shirt over his head, and Tom sits up with his arms over his head.

That was another layer of clothing shed.

“What do we do now,” Tom starts, wrapping his arm over Will’s shoulders. There was… an expectation here of some sort. Certainly not directly from either one of them, but- “Now that we’ve got our clothes off?”

Will pauses, and shifts in his spot between Tom’s legs. Those lovely hands of his began coasting across Tom’s torso again, and it took all the strength in the younger boy to hold back an embarrassing sound.

All they had done together was kiss, a tad heavily on occasion, and nothing more. It was never anything further, never anything without at least one article of clothing on. Tom hated to admit it, but he had never done anything further than that with a girl, let alone a boy. Although he was eager, more eager than he had ever been, really, he was also lost.

“Whatever you’d like to do.” Will replies softly, settling his hands against Tom’s hips. The way his thumbs graced over Tom’s implied hip bones sent a shiver down the younger man, one he couldn’t repress. Will leans in, and starts doing that thing to Tom’s neck again, which is unfairly nice.

“I just, um, you might want to- ah,” Tom starts, but he’s shut down rather quickly by a humble bite to his pulse point. His leg twitches. “I haven’t ever, um, done anything. With anyone. Before.”

Will nods against Tom’s throat, before pulling back. Tom laughs nervously, because Christ, that was probably the wrong thing to say. It was embarrassing, too, and he feels his ears go red. 

“That’s okay, I figured.” Will says, grazing his thumbs against Tom’s soft skin.The nervousness Tom had assumed dissipated rears it’s head again. “I um, I’ve done a bit before. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. No pressure.”

“No! I mean, no, I’d like to do… stuff with you, I just didn’t-” Tom coughs, “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

The anxious wrinkles of Will’s brow disappear, and he smiles gently.

“No, you’re fine, Tom. I promise.” He comes in closer, and lays a tender kiss against Tom’s forehead. “What would you like?”

Tom half shrugs, half pushes his hips against Will’s hands. Those hands. He hated to admit it, even to himself sometimes, but he had thought about those hands so much. Against his face, cupping his cheeks, against his back, holding him close. Against his hips like they are now, caressing the skin. Against his-

“I want you to touch me,” Tom blurts, averting Will’s warm gaze as he licks his lips. There’s a beat of silence, before Tom looks back up. “Please.”

Will’s staring down at him with wide eyes, and Tom’s request must have taken a moment to sink in, because he nods in surprise.

“Yeah, that- that’s- I can do that, yeah.” He whispers, taking in a long, steady breath. 

Tom doesn’t really know what to expect now, because in truth, he never thought he'd get this far. He pushes himself up into Will’s hands again, and pulls him down by the shoulders, propping their foreheads together.

Will’s eyes look grey sometimes, Tom’s noticed. Their normal bright blue appearance only happens when there’s plenty of light to make them glow, like stained glass in a church window. They look grey right now, a color akin to silver. They’re terribly nice to look at.

“If you ever want to stop, you just have to say.” Will breathes, nose awkwardly bumping into Tom’s. He almost giggles, but the feeling of Will’s hands tugging down his boxers makes the laughter catch in his throat.

Will’s touches and movements are careful as he strips Tom, motioning to him to lift his hips up. Tom does, and he feels a bit like he can’t breath, but it’s no matter, because Christ-

The way Will looks at him makes him feel as if he could die on the spot right now, and it’d be such a heavenly way to die. He also supposes he’d die of embarrassment too, which is decidedly less than heavenly. He can’t ever recall being naked in front of another man like this.

It’s only another moment until Will tosses Tom’s pants across the room, leaning back on his heels. There’s a heavy bout of eye contact too, almost like a question is being asked through the silence.

Tom already decides he would like the answer to be yes.

Will’s hands start at Tom’s collar bones, fingers scraping gently down to his chest. There’s something hesitant and supremely careful in the way Will’s skin slides across his own. It isn’t unappreciative, though, because very soon a thin exhale exits the older man.

“You’re very sightly,” He whispers. Tom can see his eyes dragging over every inch of bare skin, and his face goes hot.

“Th- thank you.” Tom hisses as Will’s fingers trace across his stomach, and down to each thigh. It’s a struggle to not immediately cross them at such an alien feeling, but he manages. What he cannot manage, though, is the way his left thigh twitches. He licks his lips.

Will’s lip quirks slightly, into something reminiscent of a smug smile. He leans in then, much to Tom’s relief, and reconnects their lips.

There’s something less… intimidating when both their mouths are preoccupied, when there isn’t any space between them. It gives Tom enough leverage to climb back into his own thoughts again, to really take in what was going to happen.

At least, he would have the leverage if Will’s hand hadn’t slipped between his legs at that precise moment.

“Ah,” Tom releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, an involuntary jerk of his hips up into WIll’s hand at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard,” Will murmurs, his free hand still clutching Tom’s thigh. Their mouths become far less chaste in action, which is only suitable for the mood, Tom thinks. He’d just hate if Will was boring in bed.

Tom moans at Will’s words, something he’s unsure if he should be embarrassed about. He feels terribly embarrassed as a whole, naked and writhing with his dick in another man’s grasp, but God he doesn’t want to quit.

A soft whine works itself from Tom as Will separates their mouths, but he’s pleased to find them against the part where his jaw meets his neck. The older man’s breath beats down against his skin as his hand begins to move, slow and precise in each movement.

It’s better than when Tom touches himself. Far better, unfairly so. Tom thought he could die earlier, sure, but he’d quickly retract that statement now. He’d only be happy with dying after he finished and made sure Will did too.

“Fuck, Will,” Tom realizes how foreign the blond’s name sounds from his mouth, how utterly muddled it sounds. He prays Will doesn’t mind as he scrambles a hand into his hair, fingers clumsily interspersed into the locks.

Will pauses, and Tom can almost swear there’s a frown against his lips. He squirms underneath the older boy uselessly.

“Too much?” Will asks, pulling back. Tom shakes his head in a frenzy, almost immediately pulling the man closer.

“NoohmyGodpleasedon’tstop,” Tom babbles, throwing a leg over Will’s back. Will stares incredulously down at him, before something akin to a grin morphs into his expression. He nods, and it’s in such a way that makes Tom’s face burn. 

Will resumes his pace, as well as his assault on Tom’s neck, down to where it meets his shoulder, and across the collar bones. Tom knows he should warn him not to leave a mark, he’d hate to be asked about it, but-

“Such an eager boy,” Will whispers, pulling part of Tom’s skin between his teeth. It’s just under his collarbone, so Tom’s allowing it, knowing how easily it’ll be hidden. “So eager for me.”

Tom’s amazed at the fact that he doesn’t finish into Will’s hand right then and there.

There’s something incomprehensible from him then- a string of exclamations, interspersed with Will’s name, and an uncountable amount of swears. He doubts Will will even bother to try and decipher it, because he seems damn busy with getting Tom off.

His grip in Will’s hair tightens, but he doesn’t push him away. If anything, he’s making a feeble attempt to pull him nearer. 

“Will,” Tom pants, and Will doesn’t say anything, simply quickening his hand against his member.  Tom whines terribly loud, and Will’s other hand, the one that was on his thigh, is soon covering his lips.

“Have to keep quiet, okay?” Will rasps, laying a tender kiss against the handsome bruise he had left along Tom’s collar. Tom nods against Will’s hand, and hesitantly, runs his tongue against the man’s palm. This time it’s Will’s turn to whine, albeit softly.

All at once, Tom finds Will’s fingers in his mouth. He doesn’t particularly know what to do with them, but Will’s ginger expression tell’s him he should. So he runs his tongue over them, closing his lips.

“Good boy, Tom,” Will says shakily. “That’s my good boy.”

Tom can’t help but to spill into Will’s hand with a muffled moan, his teeth digging in slightly into Will’s knuckles.

Another string of unintelligible words flow out of Tom then, this time stifled by Will’s fingers. They’re gently retracted after a moment, and Tom opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he had closed them.

“Are you alright?” Will asks, his tone far too polite sounding considering what had just gone on. He glances from Tom and down to his mess covered hand.

“Ah, fuck, yeah, fuckin’-a, Will.” Tom replies breathlessly, following Will’s gaze. Oh, fuck. “Just, ah, wipe your hand on the sheets, it’s fine.” 

“Okay, alright, er, good.” Will nods, licking his lips, and smears his hand against the messy sheets exposed at the side of Tom’s unmade bed. He winces, but his hand is finally clean.

Tom sits up, and reaches out for it.

“C’mere, I wanna kiss you,” He says, pulling Will closer. Will’s not unwilling, practically the opposite, really, and leans down to kiss Tom. Their fingers intertwine.

“Fuckin’-a?” Will asks, something undeniably related to laughter following soon after. If Tom didn’t feel so satisfied, he might have snapped something rude back, but he doesn’t. He knows a better way he could shut Will up.